


Two Peters and a Wedding

by InterNutter



Series: When Irish Eyes Are Smiling [6]
Category: Steam Powered Giraffe
Genre: F/M, Sexism, Transphobia, contains sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2014-03-08
Packaged: 2018-01-14 23:55:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1283500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InterNutter/pseuds/InterNutter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How could two intelligent parents name twin sons both Peter A. Walter?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Peters and a Wedding

**Author's Note:**

> I think the next one may be the last one. If I do more on this general theme, it'll be all minifics about various Baby!bots getting into trouble.
> 
> Unless there's other stories to tell... the robot's are getting definite and this is a decent place to start wrapping up.
> 
> Besides, we know there's no happy endings, here.
> 
> [This fic has been edited to make Peter less offensive to transsexual readers. I'm very sorry for the previous bad words]

  
Disclaimer: Steam Powered Giraffe belongs to the Bennetts. I just do crazy things with their characters.

Two Peters and a Wedding

InterNutter

  "Sir? You have a son."  
  He capered around, babbling in cheerful optimism. Shaking the automatons' hands and running up to hug the poor terrified maid.  
  When he recovered his wits, he babbled, "His name is Peter Alexander Walter. Make that understood. I'm adopting the dear boy. Now run! Run. Let me know when my daughter arrives."  
  He danced back to the machine in progress. A son! He knew it. A son to carry on his name and a daughter to teach about the world! Both possessing the best elements of himself and his beloved Iris. Her beauty and level head. Her ability to reason her way around problems. His creative genius and inspiration. And maybe a good dollop of the Walter height.  
  Beautiful babies to coddle and cherish and soon - O so soon! - a wedding. Not a big one. Just big enough to be official. As soon as beloved Iris named the day.  
  Things looked like they were finally - finally! - going well.  
  He actually sang. Much to the upset of the boys. Well. Three of them. Rabbit had not, so far, caused enough trouble for anyone to come down and demand that the erratic copper robot be immediately wrangled for everyone's safety.  
  So far, as the jocular falling man would say, so good.  
  He danced with Three, who stepped lively with him. The world was a wonderful place. So wonderful that he had to hug each of the three with him.  
  Rabbit. Right.  
  "The Spine? You always seem to know how your older brother is doing... *Is* Rabbit getting up to any mischief?"  
  "Rabbit is helping," said The Spine.  
  
  Miss Green glared at Rabbit. "You understand my need to keep this *my* secret?"  
  Rabbit nodded vigorously. "I keep tryin'a tell Pappy, but he says it's all nonsense."  
  Miss Green had a pitying gaze for her. "Why do you think I moved all the way to San Diego?"  
  Rabbit shuddered. The implication was clear. The only way Miss Green saw for Rabbit to be herself was to move. Far, far away from everything and everyone she loved. "Ain't th-there a w-w-way? T' help 'em und-d-d-derstand?"  
  "Not one I've found." Miss green pulled the chain, then washed her hands up to the elbow again.  
  Ma was moaning. Time for Miss Green to get back to work. Time for Rabbit to sing and hold Ma up.  
  Maybe it would be better if she ran away. Find a nice mechanic who could keep her maintained. All she really needed was water and oil. Those weren't too expensive.  
  After all... Pappy and Ma had real babies, now. Ones like them who were made of flesh and had hearts instead of oil pumps. Real babies, who were cute and small and were easy to hug and even easier to kiss. Real babies, who were soft and delightful and didn't need special skills to keep in clothing. Real babies, who could wear shoes instead of paint on their feet. Real babies who could really love. Real babies who didn't give Pappy trouble and back-talk from day one.  
  Real babies with real names.  
  Rabbit kept all her internal sadness out of her song. She loved Ma and wanted to help for as long as Ma loved her back. She even loved Pappy when she was mad at him for not letting her be a girl. It would not make Pappy happy to learn that her own sadness had managed to infect Ma.  
  
  In the basement, where he was helping Pappy build the BEBOP engine, The Spine resonated with Rabbit's misery. Drew the same conclusions from Pappy's happiness. And, when it began to overwhelm him, he picked a task that would point his leaking face away from both Pappy and his brothers. He was the strong one. Made to protect the others. He had already failed with Rabbit, who was determined to protect *him*. He could still protect Three and Four.  
  They didn't need to feel what he was feeling now.  
  Let them be happy for a while longer.  
  Three, clambering around in the rigging, stopped what he was doing to hang by his knees from a supporting rafter. "[It's not very bad,]" he chirped. "[Maybe they'll forget about not wanting us.]"  
  Spine boggled at him. "[How? How did you--]"  
  "[You're my first face,]" answered Three. "[Of course I know everything about you.]"  
  "Focus, Three..." said Pappy.  
  The Spine found a loose rag and mopped his face free of oil. Discreetly as he could, of course. Then he checked on Four. Four was always eager to please Pappy or Ma, and happy to assist any of the servants. But now... he was almost desperate.  
  He, too, had worked it out on his own. He knew that Three hadn't told him. None of them had any way of communicating without speaking, somehow.  
  "[Remain calm,]" he instructed. "[We do not have proof.]"  
  "[It's logic,]" warbled Four. "[Humans get rid of things they do not need.]"  
  "[We're things,]" tweeted Three.  
  And they were also pretend people. Imitations. Imitators.  
  
  There was a change of atmosphere among the boys. They were more on edge. Worried. He could hear it in the minor notes of their chirping.  
  "Don't fret, now," he cooed as he clambered up the main frame to add yet another cable to the mess of BEBOP's internals. "Miss Green is the absolute best. Miss Iris is going to be just fine. The children, too."  
  He was deep in the workings of another synchronised Babbage-brain when another maid turned up in the doorway.  
  "Colonel Walter, Sir?" she sounded terrified. "You have a son."  
  "Yes, yes. I've been informed. Peter Alexander Walter."  
  "Uhm. Yes, sir. But--"  
  "Go back upstairs and let me know when the daughter comes."  
  She seemed glad to flee.  
  Not three turns of the spanner, later, a different maid.  
  "Sir... It's for the paperwork. We need your son's name."  
  "Peter. Alexander. Walter. I've already *said*." He sighed and levered himself around so he could glare at the flighty girl. "Now go back upstairs and make certain they're *told*."  
  "Uhm..."  
  "Did I stutter? Did I mumble?"  
  "Nosir."  
  "Then *GO*."  
  Another five minutes. Another maid.  
  "Sir. Your son..."  
  "IS CALLED PETER ALEXANDER WALTER, I HAVE ALREADY *SAID*!" So very difficult to keep his temper. "STOP INTERRUPTING, THIS IS A DELICATE JUNCTURE!"  
  The next thing he knew, the Boy was dangling his feet over the upper landing and laughing. "Nobody said," he giggled. "Nobody told you..."  
  He sighed. Gestured for The Spine to take over. Made his way to a place of safety. He had to stay calm around Bobby. "What did nobody tell me, Bobby?"  
  Giggle giggle giggle. "You have *two* boys," he gestured awkwardly with two stubby fingers. "And now they're *both* called Peter Alexander Walter." He laughed and swung his legs. "Nobody said it was your *second* son." He grinned in wide triumph. "And they call *me* stupid."  
  Peter literally dropped everything and ran.  
  The automatons hurried behind him.  
  
  Ma was sleeping. Ma was really, genuinely sleeping. Rabbit could hear her heartbeat. And she was very glad.  
  She and Pappy could have a happily ever after with two little baby boys. Rabbit kissed them very carefully on their soft cheeks before she kissed Ma just as carefully. She'd made sure Miss Green was washing up.  
  Miss Green didn't want her touching the babies.  
  She sidled into the ensuite as Pappy rushed in all flustered.  
  "Miss Green?" she murmured. "Could'ja use some automatons?"  
  "No, little lady. And you should wait before you plan to run off, hm?"  
  "Can I still write letters?"  
  A pitying smile. A condescending nod. "Sure. Girls like us have to stick together."  
  Rabbit hugged her. "Thank you. Thank you."  
  Pappy's voice. "Rabbit, put the nice lady down!"  
  If only he knew...  
  
  Peter looked everywhere for the paperwork. Dare not rouse poor exhausted Iris. He looked helplessly down at the two boys. One in the regular pink[1] and the other in teal. Teal for two. He'd find out later if that meant Peter Walter the Second or Peter Walter the Third.  
  "I don't understand," he whimpered. "One of them was meant to be my daughter..."  
  "Oh, so a *baby* gets ta be a girl," growled Rabbit. "Didja ask one? Maybe they even get a vote."  
  "Rabbit..." he sighed. He didn't need this argument right now. "Go. Take. A walk."  
  Rabbit stomped away. Copper face like a smacked bottom.  
  Muted chirping amongst the rest.  
  "It's all right, sir," said The Spine.  
  "We know what to do," said Four.  
  "You won't even notice we're gone," squeaked Three.  
  Gone?  
  He looked back at the three automatons.  
  Oil was pouring down their faces. They were clinging to each other like...  
  Like orphaned children.  
  "What *ever* gave the idea that I'd want you to go away?"  
  Four danced nervously on his narrow peg legs. "You have real ba-bies, now."  
  "We break things," murmured The Spine.  
  "And we're trouble," added Three. "And you have a real boy to call Three."  
  Of course they'd be worried. Rabbit had been worried the instant he'd seen The Spine in progress. They were well aware that they were machines, and that machines could be easily replaced.  
  "Oh, my poor boys..." he rushed to hold them. "You are not expendable! Of course I want you to stay. All *four* of you. Troubles and all."  
  "Pro-mise?" said Four.  
  "On my love for science."  
  He embraced The Spine last. Whispered, "Please go explain things to Rabbit before he does anything... rash."  
  "She," said The Spine.  
  Not now. Please, just not now. "Really? You too?"  
  "Sir... Pappy... Why can't Rabbit be a girl?"  
  "Because he is a boy, The Spine. Now go and make sure he doesn't wind up in trouble."  
  The Spine frowned at him, "But we're made. You can make us different at any time."  
  "Spine. Please. I'm worried Rabbit may do something... rash."  
  The Spine sighed at him, but left anyway.  
  Peter shook his head, adoring his bride-to-be and his children. All of them.  
  Even his twin namesakes.  
  If only he'd asked a proper question...  
  
  Did you hear?  
  There were twins!  
  Boys!  
  Did you hear?  
  He named them both after himself!  
  What amazing *hubris*!  
  Did you hear?  
  He's going to adopt them.  
  Did you hear?  
  He claims he's going to marry her.  
  A ruined woman!  
  Did you hear?  
  He's going to be selling the Automatons to the highest bidder.  
  As if anyone would want one...  
  As if anyone could afford one.  
  Did you hear?  
  
  Rabbit didn't get as far as running away. She did wind up sitting by the duck pond in an angry knot. Fuming in the general direction of the ducks. And the ducks weren't helping. One had decided that she was its friend and, after nuzzling her pockets for anything duck-worthy, it nuzzled its way into her lap.  
  It looked up at her with adoring, button eyes. Let her pat it.  
  "Good duck," she cooed. "You got it real easy, don'cha? Nobody tells ya who y-y-y-y-y-y-you gotta be." Oil dripped off her chin. Narrowly missed the duck. She sniffed and wiped her face with her sleeve. "Sor-sor-sorry... I know oil's bad f'r you." Sigh. "I j-j-ju-ju-just wre-wre-wreck ever-everything."  
  "Never wrecked me," The Spine sat by her. Eased an arm around her shoulders. Tried to pet the duck, but the duck would have none of it and retreated to the far end of the pond. "Maybe you could teach me how to be good with animals, too."  
  Rabbit leaned into him. "Why'm I so mi-mi-mi-mixed up? Was it th' war? Was it all them knocks? Maybe Pappy made all'a his mistakes wit' me..."  
  "Pappy would say that we were made identical. That we have to be the same."  
  Rabbit snorted. "Ha! We're practically opposites."  
  "So if we're meant to be the same... which one is wrong?"  
  Rabbit reached into her jacket and bought out an oil-blotched piece of paper. "I think Pappy might'a made a mistake when he made me."  
  "These are Pappy's old notes."  
  "B-b-b-bottom left c-corner."  
  "That's... us? And one's..."  
  "Yeah."  
  
  Three and Four, who didn't have proper names, came up with the nicknames for his sons. Duo and Trike. Darling Iris was still recovering from the birth and did not stay conscious for much longer than it took to eat, change and feed the twins, and take care of her own ablutions.  
  She was wrung out, but she swore she'd be wedded in bed if she had to be.  
  So he'd made the arrangements.  
  It was a quiet affair. Attended by Mason, Billy, four automatons, and Cookie.  
  The twins - the infant boys - slept through the entire, abbreviated ceremony. And through an honorary baptism for Iris' sake.  
  Man and wife at last.  
  It was no honeymoon, looking after twin newborns. But he learned many, many things. Including that the teal infant's dress was for his first-born, Peter the Second.  
  He also learned that a small human apparently had an infinite capacity to pee. And that one small, helpless child required a surprising amount of cleaning.  
  He also learned that the automatons had taken it upon themselves to sing to the babies.  
  
  Peter almost tripped over Rabbit in the dark. The automaton caught him and set him upright again.  
  He was almost used to child-caring with a curious automaton peering over his shoulder. Three and Four would caper around cot and changing table alike, wanting to see everything and missing half of it in the process. The Spine would keep his arms behind his back and try to ask salient questions.  
  And Rabbit... wanted to be involved.  
  Peter fended off yet another sharp-edged hand. "Careful. You have sharp edges and babies are delicate."  
  "I don't wanna hurt 'em. I wa-wanna help." And he did, in his way. Fetching cleaning cloths and fresh clothing for his biological sons. And singing to the babies so softly in the night. "I wanna understand."  
  "More questions, eh? Keep it civil."  
  Rabbit frowned at that. It was part of their truce, of sorts. No mention of Rabbit being a girl meant no exasperation for Peter. Until such time as more proof than a sketch from his old notes had been found. Which naturally lead to automatons going through every last piece of paper in his assorted laboratories and sorting and filing them accordingly.  
  Rabbit's original plans were still missing. He had the reserve plans, cribbed from those of The Spine. But the original plans were lost in the shuffle.  
  "What makes boys be boys?"  
  Thin ice.  
  Peter lovingly glared at him. "If this turns into one of your little traps..."  
  "I just wanna know, Pappy. How... t' really *be* a boy."  
  Well. There was a welcome ray of sunshine. "A boy, of course, is expected to grow into a man. To be fortified against the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. A man is expected to protect his family, earn the money for the daily bread. Be an example to his children. Men are naturally more resilient. Better suited to deal with the rigors of employment and slightly cannier in the fields of science and mathematics. Your mother, lord love her, is the supremely rare exception to the rule."  
  "And... girls?"  
  "I asked for that, just mentioning your Ma, didn't I?"  
  "...please?"  
  "Women are naturally more delicate. Softer. More caring and nurturing. Better at understanding children. Beauty comes to them like the dew settles on grass in the morning. They're naturally more skilled at the softer arts. Knitting. Crochet. Sewing. Weaving. Cooking. That sort of thing."  
  "So... I ain't a girl 'cause of I'm c-copper. And my hands are t-t-too sharp. And too rough w-w-w-wit' things. An'... an' I ain't ma-ma-ma-made p-p-p-p-p-pretty. An' I c-c-ca-c-ca-c-c-c-c-c--*" Rabbit backed away from the changing table, oil leaking from his eyes. Head and arms twitching in random directions.  
  Once upon a time, it would have been a fascinating study. Examining an automaton as its synthesised emotions caused existing flaws to be severely amplified. Here and now, with one child going to pieces in front of him and two more needing their mother, the most important thing was helping his children.  
  He passed the junior Peters to darling Iris. Clean and changed. He did his best to whistle calming notes for Rabbit.  
  Of all his children, Rabbit was the most sensitive to his synthesised emotions.  
  A spare diaper became an oil rag. His repeated, slow whistles of their chirp for 'calm' eventually slowed Rabbit's tic's enough so he could hug his automaton son.  
  "I sor-sor-sorry P-P-P-P-Pa-Pa-Pappy..." Rabbit managed. "...d-d-dunno any other ho-ho-how t' b-b-be..."  
  "Now, now," he cooed. "There, now. Calm down. Settle down, Rabbit. Shh... shh... Come on, now. Let's take this to the lab, eh? We can... we can run tests. See what's going on, at least. Take another look for those dratted plans of yours."  
  Sniff. "'Kay, Pappy."  
  It was a telling sign indeed that Rabbit held his hand all the way there. Not being a girl hurt Rabbit on an emotional level. Upset the poor automaton.  
  Maybe he could find a way to prove things for himself, too.  
  One way or the other.  
  
  Pappy's labs were almost clear of paper. Every drawer, every storage place, almost clean, too. Almost every last piece of paper, she and her brothers had found, researched, filed and stowed in the brand new Walter Archives.  
  And none of them were Rabbit's plans.  
  "Since I'm he-here..."  
  "Mm-hm?" murmured Pappy  
  "Can ya make me some hands that ain't sharp?"  
  "That would take weeks, Rabbit. I can't do that right away."  
  "Wha-what about..." she took a deep breath. She had to chance it. "Pre-prettier outsides? Sum'thin'... worth lookin' at?"  
  "And who do you have in mind who would look, eh?"  
  Sigh. "I just... we were s'posed'a be works of art, right? So what's wrong wit' bein' good t' look at?"  
  "Well, I was considering a more... appealing chassis for you all. Your designs are rather... practical. A little too -well- ungainly. Ma can't sew new clothes for you all the time. Again, it would take some significant time."  
  Rabbit drifted through the rest of her diagnostics in a dream. All she could think was, _New chassis. New chassis. New chassis!_  
  She was going to be pretty!  
  She was going to be better than she was for being a girl.  
  Maybe Pappy was keeping it for a surprise.  
  
  Dear Miss Green, Rabbit wrote.  
  Surprise! Pappy's building us all new chassis. He let it slip when he was running diagnostics and I know I'm going to get the full overhaul, if you know what I mean. And just in case, I'm trying some other stuff to be soft and Ma's teaching me a lot of girl stuff when I ask.  
  I'm gonna be ready, no matter what it takes.  
  I wish it was just as easy for people as it was for ('Robutts' was crossed out) automatons. I tried looking in the books to help ya, but human insides is gross. Sorry.  
  Pappy said how all girls want babies of their own and I know that'd be real tricky for you. The best I can do for that is a drawing of you being happy.  
  (The next page had a simplistic picture of her holding hands with a small child of a similar colour. It was signed with a heart and Rabbit's name)  
  Miss Green kept that picture for the rest of her life.  
  
  Pappy had made Rabbit's face pretty flexible, for all its copper parts. Three could sit all day and watch her gurn as she sewed. Everything involving thread was super tricky for Rabbit, and she got herself tangled in it more often than not. So she made the best funny faces as she carefully moved needle and thread through her current project.  
  Three waited until Rabbit was checking her progress before he spoke. "You could get The Spine to do all that," he chirped.  
  "Hush, dummins, I'm doin' this t' show Pappy."  
  "Show Pappy what? Quilting?"  
  "I figured it out. I'm gonna be soft."  
  
  Iris found Rabbit tracing around her metal hand with chalk on a piece of flour sacking. She could guess Rabbit picked it from the other empty flour sacks for the colourful flower pattern[2]. It was her best guess as to how many colours Rabbit actually saw.  
  And Iris could see that the spread-finger pattern she was trying to create was going to go all wrong for her.  
  "That's a nice try, sweetie," she began. "You're better off going with the grain and keeping your fingers straight. Like this," Iris took Rabbit's hand and repositioned her. "See? Now it won't be hard to sew, later. And add a little for seams. There. Much better."  
  Rabbit was frowning. "Howcome th' Spine gets ta be better at this?"  
  "The Spine started simpler, too. He wasn't made creating fine work. Remember?"  
  "Yeah, you showed him all'a the boring things. I couldn't sit still for it all. Can't hardly sit still for it now, but... I need it more."  
  "Oh? And what do you need it for?"  
  "I'm g-gonna be soft. So Pappy can see who I am."  
  "Soft," Iris repeated.  
  "Yahuh. Pappy tole me all'a the stuff I got-g-gotta do to be a proper girl. Soft. Pretty. Caring. Ge-ge-gentle. An' I'm gonna be hel-helping in the kitchen, too. Y-y-y-you can teach me all'a the girl things, too, right?"  
  She smiled for Rabbit. "I can certainly try."  
  
  Two oven mitts were missing. As was quite a lot of quilting material. And some ribbon. Darling Iris was not worried about any of it.  
  "I think you may see tonight," was all she would say.  
  "Plotting against me, eh? Your own husband."  
  "Maybe just a little," she purred. "I do recall some fifteen hours of labor. With hardly a scrap to eat."  
  "Mea culpa, madame," he slid into bed next to her and hugged her tight. Covered her neck with kisses. "And my infinite apologies."  
  "Don't do it again," she mock-growled.  
  "I shall have to express my passions by other means."  
  "An adequate compromise," she purred, snuggling back.  
  They fell asleep in each other's arms.  
  He woke to one of his sons crying. Not a good, solid, I-need-you cry. Not yet. He could catch the edge of Rabbit's music.  
  Time for him to pay his dues. Iris had the tougher job of feeding them. It was only fair that he did the changing and half of the cuddling.  
  One of the younger Peters temporarily left off crying to coo.  
  Peter still shuffled to the neighbouring nursery to see what was up. Babies that young didn't coo unless they had comfort. And the only person - or near-person - there to give it was...  
  Rabbit!  
  Adrenaline spurred him into faster action.  
  There, in the nursery, Rabbit was wearing the most ridiculous get-up. A sort of quilted pinafore with sleeves. And the missing oven mits.  
  "There we go. See? Good li'l Trike. Rabbit's gotcha."  
  Peter dare not yell. He knew for a fact that Rabbit malfunctioned when stressed or upset. And any malfunction would make Rabbit drop the baby.  
  Peter held his breath as Rabbit transferred young Peter the Third to the changing table. Where a fresh diaper and new clothing waited. As well as a damp washcloth.  
  He approached as Rabbit changed holds on young Trike. "Rabbit, what in the world?"  
  A bright, metal grin. "See, Pappy? I'm soft, now. And real gentle." Under the oven mits were chintz gloves from a flour sack. 'Fl' was on one hand and 'our' on the other. It was the work of a miracle that Rabbit's sharp fingers pierced neither that cloth, nor the fabric of Trike's diaper. "Ma had me practicin' with a sack doll all day. And we made up th' soft suit y-y-yesterday. Ain't sayin' I'm all'a way ready, but I'm learnin' real good, Pappy. I'm learnin'."  
  Astonishing. A machine he'd made. A machine that, he knew, could crush a brick to powder in his hands, and cut tender flesh with his knife-like fingers... caring for a squirming infant without so much as causing a single discomfort.  
  The memory of a hundred broken guitars of varying quality assaulted his mind. "You learned this *now*?"  
  "Gots me good reason, d-d-don't I?"  
  Despite the rigors of sleep deprivation, Peter put the disparate pieces together. Rabbit was still chasing this dream and had come to the wrong conclusion. And now, the machine was holding his son hostage.  
  No. Wait.  
  Rabbit had just successfully cleaned and changed young Peter the Third and, without a mote of evil inside, was now gently transferring the baby into Peter's own arms.  
  "There we go," Rabbit cooed. "All ready for Ma. You go. I got Duo."  
  "You're sure?"  
  "Sure I'm sure."  
  Well. That was that. He *had* to prove it, now. Very possibly too little, too late... Alas.  
  
  The next morning found him in his lab, constructing a Babbage brain from any old clockwork parts he could grab.  
  Iris found him, one of the babies draped over her shoulder, and frowned. "If we need a quartet, we can upgrade poor Four again. He's eager enough."  
  "I'm testing a theory, love," he said, tightening a screw. "This one won't ever be awake. I was in such a muddle when I made all of the boys... and Rabbit."  
  Now *there* was a telling concession. "And?"  
  "And I can't remember what I did for the life of me. I worked off The Spine's plans for the rest... since they were there. But I can't remember what I was doing with Rabbit. So... I thought I'd try building a feminine brain on purpose to see if there was any comparison."  
  Iris almost leaped on him. Smothering the half of his dear face that she could reach with kisses.  
  "Ai! Don't jostle me!"  
  "I know why you're doing it and you're wonderful. Wonderful!"  
  Peter grinned, blood rushing to his face. He'd never been *this* wonderful in all their time together.  
  The younger Peter - his pink outfit declared that he was Peter the Third - reached out to grab the clockwork brain in progress and promptly threw up on it.  
  "Oh, Trike," moaned Iris. "That's what the towel was for, dear."  
  "I'll mop off. No harm done. You're going to be an engineer like your old dad, aren't you, my boy? All those shiny gears. But not yet. Not yet." He carefully disengaged his sons grasping fingers. "Let's wait until you're walking and talking, first."  
  Laughing, he picked up the brain and rinsed it off in the sometimes-necessary lab sink and set it to dry on the wet bench. "How are the automatons doing with Duo?"  
  "Passably well. We're out of quilting material and oven mits, of course."  
  "Of course." He knew the answer to the question of why they were out of oven mits. Each automaton took one look at Rabbit's 'soft' ensemble and demanded their own. Some suggested improvements - many impractical for the original purpose.  
  But now there were three automatons in the nursery. And one outside, resplendent in his everyday black-and-red ensemble. Standing guard by the doorway and looking slightly flustered.  
  "Not cuddling any babies, son?"  
  "Self fail at baby," he said in strict, please-stop-asking tones.  
  "We'll work on it tomorrow. We have plenty of time," soothed darling Iris.  
  Peter dropped his voice to a low murmur. "Is it me, or is The Spine shivering?"  
  She whispered back, "Poor darling's terrified of dropping a baby and harming him. He's dropped the sand dolls twenty dozen times, by now."  
  Ah yes. Sand dolls. He remembered that mortifying little ritual. Whenever a member of his family had a baby, he would be dragged by his mother into practicing holding a doll weighted with sand. Berated for every way he got it wrong.  
  And The Spine was a nervous kind of soul. Forever trying to get it right. A rigid body in a plastic world.  
  He'd have to have a chat with the poor lad.  
  The three others were quite a sight. Muffled from neck to knee in thick quilting and, in Four's case, a moustache-cosy with pom-poms on the sharper corners.  
  If there ever was a more doted-upon infant, then the poor child possibly had twenty adoring aunts.  
  Three looked slightly guilty. "Uh. Only Rabbit wants the full girl thing," he felt compelled to clarify. "We just wanted to hold the babies."  
  Four nodded. He was standing very, very still.  
  Of course. It was high time that he did something to improve all their lots.  
  Young Master Peter the Second smacked rhythmically at Rabbit's face. "Ah wa," he said. "Ah wa."  
  "Rab-bit. Say 'Rab-bit'," Rabbit repeated. And grinned. "I'm g-g-gonna be a first word."  
  Iris smiled indulgently. "It's time for good babies to have a nap-nap," she cooed. Tucking in Master Three before moving on to Master Two.  
  "And it's time for all good automatons to get some fetching upgrades," Peter added.  
  They almost fell over each other, rushing out of the room.  
  
  Rabbit didn't know how to feel. A part of her mind was devoted solely to the words, "New Chassis!" And would not stop repeating them. The rest of her was almost petrified with fear.  
  What if it all went wrong?  
  What if she died?  
  What if nobody else wanted it?  
  What if her brothers hated her?  
  What if Pappy said 'no'?  
  What if? What if? What if?  
  "Who's next?" called Pappy.  
  Rabbit, in a fit of panic, shoved Four in front of him as The Spine stumbled out in an amazed daze.  
  He didn't look much different. His spines were a little shorter and blunter, but his chassis...  
  He was handsome. And he had proper shoulders and thicker fingers and wider legs. He looked like he could buy his clothes from the stores. He even had a stomach. Or the appearance of one.  
  "How is it?" Rabbit asked.  
  "Look," The Spine showed her his palm. Where the moving plates were. "Pressure sensors. Now I don't have to be told when I'm holding things too hard. And I can tell if things are hot or cold. And Pappy put a thing in me so I can try food. But it has to be after the humans eat. And it has to be cleaned out." He was grinning and breathless and so very, very happy. "And look! Toes! We get toes! I can have shoes! And socks!"  
  "Were you scared?" Rabbit asked. Hiding her own trepidation.  
  "Why? Pappy loves us. He wouldn't hurt us." The Spine lunged to hug her. Never too tight. Never again. Rabbit had secretly loved her brother-dents. But The Spine was ecstatic and Rabbit could be happy for him.  
  The Spine kissed her with his new, black lips and sped off to go feel things.  
  Rabbit had a whole minute of jealousy for him before her own horrors crept back up on her and sent her into nervous jitters.  
  She'd already pushed The Spine and Four in front of her. She was running out of brothers to go first. Three was watching her alternately sit and fidget or try to pace a hole in the carpet. Three smiled at her like he smiled at everything and, the next time she sat, wrapped her up in his impossibly-long arms.  
  "It's okay," he soothed. "You're going to be okay."  
  Four was almost unrecognisable. His body was far more human-looking. His head infinitely so. And perched on his bronze nose was a pair of wire-framed spectacles, which mystified Rabbit.  
  "Pappy didn't get'cha better eyes?"  
  "I told Pap-py I like to see the small things," grinned Four. "So he gave me an add-on so I can see the big things too." He tapped the frames. So carefully. "And look! I have a neck, now." He turned his head all the way around, once. And then back the opposite way. "If I go too far, my head falls out, so I should not do that too of-ten. But I'm real-ly hap-py ab-out the feet." He showed them off. Performed what he thought was a little dance. "I am go-ing to show Miss Cook-ie!"  
  Three already raced in where Rabbit feared to tread.  
  Oh no. She'd run out of brothers.  
  Three had a proper, people-looking head, now. And almost-normal proportions. And a more flexible face. "I can make faces just as good as you will," he happily gurned for her. "And Pappy says you're gonna get a stomach-thing so you can eat if you wanna. And we can all feel! And you don't need a koi like I got. Don'cha want it, Rabbit?"  
  "...more'n anything," she whispered.  
  "So? Go in! Get it all!"  
  "...'mscared..."  
  "Pappy won't hurt you."  
  And there he was. Kind and gentle and sleep-weary and kind-of ruffled like she remembered him from the first days. "It's all right, Three. Go play."  
  Rabbit could easily resist his hand. She knew. She could crush it or cut it to ribbons and run away.  
  Except...  
  She loved Pappy too much to do any of that. So she let him lead her into the lab. Let him take her clothes off and help her into the old familiar slab.  
  Let him strap her in. For safety.  
  Then she saw the chest-plates and started to cry.  
  "What's wrong?" Pappy asked.  
  "Th-the-th-they're fla-fla-fla-fla-*flat*."  
  
[1] Once upon a time, the boy and girl colours were reversed.  
[2] Trufax: Old-time flour sacks used to be made of cotton with various interesting prints. There are still infant's clothes in museums bearing the word 'flour' somewhere in their makeup.  
  
To Be Continued!   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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